A year of writing a little bit of everything. Writers Write, Right?

until you welcome guests

Moving is a bit of a bizarre thing. It rocks your world, changing much of what you grew to rely upon. It takes a tremendous amount of time for the order of the world to reset itself. We are in the infancy stage of this process.

Friendships, church families, finances, even sometimes children’s behavior. It’s all in upheaval.

It is odd being homeowners again and balancing the joys and the worry that comes with that. It is something we know to be a blessing, but just because you own a house, doesn’t mean it’s even close to being a home.

We’ve lived in our current building for just over two months now.

It was a house when we moved in.

It was a house when we hammered nails in the walls and threw up some paintings.

It was a house when my husband built the fence and installed the new sink and put in the microwave.

Over the past two weekends though our house is slowly starting to transform into something else.

Friends have come.

Friends that would not have otherwise seen the bed head and the pajamas. Friends that sat at our table for a meal and then did it all over again. Friends that didn’t just come for a visit, but that came to stay. Friends that came to see and make new memories in a new place.

This is so true! We moved into a parsonage 2 years ago when my husband took his current call as sole pastor, and I thought it would become very difficult to feel “at home” in a place that wasn’t really “ours”. But after making memories and having friends come and go, two years later it’s hard to imagine anyone else ever having lived here!